


The Ways We Love

by ditzymax



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Aftercare, Alcohol, Blow Jobs, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Dom!Jeonghan, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Marriage Proposal, Multiple Orgasms, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Second Person, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Smut, Spanking, Spit As Lube, Unprotected Penetrative Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21622225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ditzymax/pseuds/ditzymax
Summary: Periods of work mean periods without play between you and your longtime boyfriend. After he offers to be the muse for your latest artistic piece, you realize just how much you appreciate his never-ending support.
Relationships: Yoon Jeonghan/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	The Ways We Love

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Jeonghan (Seventeen) x Female Reader (ft. a brief appearance by Joshua Hong)
> 
> Genre: Fluff, Smut
> 
> Format: Female Reader’s POV
> 
> Warnings & Features: established relationship; profanity; some mentions of alcohol consumption and (past) drunken sex; public marriage proposal; brief mentions of wedding plans and having children; graphic sexual content; dom!Jeonghan; dirty talk with a lot of praise and pet name usage; fingering; light/brief spitting; fellatio; light spanking; unprotected penetrative sex; creampie; multiple orgasms
> 
> Author’s Note: This is a bit different (in a few ways) and I like it a lot.

He had started off so well. He was relaxed, comfortable, cheerful. Happy to help, especially when all he had to do was sit there. This was _his_ idea, after all.

But _now_ … Now he’s fidgety. Anxious and bored. You sympathize with that, but if he doesn’t - “Stop _moving_!” - then you’re ready to give up this entire project already.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” he huffs, and there _is_ a sincere hint of sorrow beneath his irritation. “You’re just being so quiet. I thought you’d at least talk to me and let me know how it’s coming.”

You spare him a quick, direct glance before refocusing on the canvas. “I’m not going to give you a play-by-play of every mark I make, Han. I need to concentrate. I want this to be as perfect as _you_ are.”

Jeonghan averts his eyes and lets out a dismissive scoff, but you know you have appeased him nonetheless from the way he falls silent and relaxes his shoulders again. The new pink hue on his cheeks would be a nice touch if only you were ready to add color to the piece. For now, you store the inspirational image away for later.

You manage to flesh out some details around his nose before his live self ruins his posture - and subsequently, the lighting on his face - by shifting in his seat yet again. With a sigh, you set your utensils aside, wipe your palms on your pants, and suggest, “How ‘bout a break? Let me get you a drink.”

Whatever his answer was going to be - agreement, argument, or otherwise - does not have time to be voiced before you are breezing by him and into the kitchen. When you return, he accepts the glass of water and obeys your command to drink up. You watch as he tips an ice cube into his mouth and licks his lips afterward.

He takes your admiration for scrutiny. “What?”

You smooth some stray hairs near his ear and poke the bulge in his cheek. “Nothing. Just like looking at you.”

He snorts and crunches the ice. “I can tell. Shouldn’t you go back to doing that from the _other_ side of the room? When do you think it’ll be finished?”

You shrug, then fuss with the collar of his shirt until it uncreases. “You know I can’t answer that. A few hours? Days? Weeks? Whenever I’m satisfied with it. Or whenever you say, _‘Fuck you, I’m done with this.’_ You can at any time, you know. I told you I can always just use a photo to finish this and then you won’t have to model for me anymore.”

His smirk softens into a smile. “No, I don’t want you to do that. I volunteered for this gig, didn’t I? Besides, I like modeling for you. It feels fancy to do it this way. And it’ll probably turn out better.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it’ll be so awful you’ll leave me over how monstrous I made you look.”

“Well, at least that would make an interesting story to tell my _next_ girlfriend.”

You giggle. “That’s true. Why don’t I just do a caricature? That way, if it looks bad, I can pretend it was on purpose.”

“ _No_. God no,” Jeonghan firmly rejects. “You’re too good an artist to be making pieces look silly on purpose.”

You peck his forehead for his version of a compliment. “Well, if you want this to be ‘professional,’ you have to sit still for me, doll.”

“I will. I’ll behave.” He tilts his chin to seek out your lips, and you willingly give them up. They curl when you watch him fumble to set his glass aside on the coffee table behind him without breaking contact with you. Before he can free up his hands to do goodness-knows-what with them, you slink away back to your easel.

“You just told me you’d behave. If you’re not backing out, then I’m still working, and that means we’re still on the clock,” you remind him.

He knows, but there is still a hint of disappointment in his gaze. These abstinence periods are relatively new to your long-standing relationship. You suppose most people would think a couple purposefully denying themselves sex would tear a wedge of stress and resentment between them, but that has not been the case with you and Jeonghan. This way of keeping things interesting has been pivotal in reigniting a spark in your relationship that monotony had come too close to snuffing out during one of your lowest lulls. Making sex an earned treat rather than an obligated routine or occasional happenstance has strengthened the two of you. It’s a stimulus. A game. A challenging one to be sure, but always immensely rewarding. It always feels so good to finally have something again after you’ve been missing it.

So that is what you have both agreed: there is no ‘play time’ while you are working. Not until after the job is finished.

“How long do you think this one will take?” Jeonghan asks presently.

You plop down in your seat with a light groan and gather your utensils again. “I already told you, I can’t say for sure. Few hours, days, weeks?”

Your muse nods and takes another drink of water as he mentally prepares himself for the oncoming drought, then does his best to relax in his seat again.

* * *

It takes twelve days to complete the portrait, and Jeonghan is not even sitting across from you when the last stroke falls upon the canvas. He will probably be offended by this once he finds out, but you couldn’t stop yourself from finishing without him. Besides, you know he will be as happy as you are that it’s finished.

A sigh flutters past your lips, and you take a step back to better admire (and scrutinize) your work. As you scan it over, you can’t help but smile; not just out of pride for the job you did, but because of the striking resemblance you have been striving to achieve. It is always difficult to instill life and warmth into mere lines and dots and smudges, but the two-dimensional rendition truly seems as though it could begin breathing at any moment, and a fresh wave of fondness for your best friend and lover as the real-life person he is comes over you. That’s how you know you are satisfied - and not just in terms of your finished project.

This is something to celebrate, and after deciding how you want to do so, you pick up your cell phone to text Jeonghan about an important dilemma.

> **I forgot what you’re wearing today**   
>  **[You | 14:49]**

There is enough time to change out of your old, splattered overalls and heat up a late lunch before your phone buzzes back.

> **I know it’s been a while since we’ve sexted but I think you mean to phrase that as “what are you wearing” with a smirk emoji**   
>  **[Jeonghan | 15:06]**

You almost choke on a bite of your food as you laugh out loud.

> **Asldkdls  
>  I’m not trying to sext with you, punk  
> I just need to know if you’re dressed nicely enough for a restaurant with a decent wine list  
> We have some celebrating to do  
> [You | 15:07]**

> **How come  
>  [Jeonghan | 15:07]**

> **It’s finished  
>  [You | 15:07]**

This time your phone does not buzz; it rings.

“You finished the portrait?” Jeonghan’s voice is hushed and a little rushed. You can tell he is on the move, probably heading somewhere away from his co-workers and customers for a more private conversation.

“It’s signed and everything,” you confirm cheerfully.

“That’s fantastic!” Apparently he is not the least bit offended. “This is _definitely_ worth celebrating. We should go to the nicest place in town and dress to the nines.”

More laughter bursts from deep in your chest. “Wha- I mean, it’s still just a portrait, Han. I didn’t win an award or solve a murder case or anything.”

“So? I-” The sound of a door closing interrupts him mid-sentence. “-sat in that chair for a hundred years and went celibate waiting for that thing to be done. This deserves a _grand_ celebration.”

Your eyeroll can probably be heard through the receiver. “You’re so fucking dramatic. It took less than two weeks. Remember that waterfall landscape I did?”

Jeonghan grunts at the memory. “How can I forget? Longest month-and-a-half of my entire life.”

“It was worth it in the end, though, wasn’t it?” you say, recalling how neither of you could walk properly for a day and a half after you finished that particular piece - which is now proudly mounted on a wall in your shared bedroom. “Come on, doll. When I pick you up, we'll go out and have that decent wine with a decent meal so the public knows we’re celebrating something, and then we’ll come home and fuck each other blind, okay?”

There was a time years ago when he might have choked and sputtered over your words, but this lewd proposal is mild, and today he doesn’t flinch. “If that’s what _Madame Artiste_ wants, then that’s what we’ll do.” He offers you a choice between two restaurants he deems himself dressed appropriately for without having to come home and change, and once you have made it, he requests, “Can you bring my navy suit jacket with you so I can make this outfit work, please? And wear your favorite dress. I’ll see you when you get here tonight.”

* * *

The chimes on the door draw the attention of three pairs of eyes, and the sight of you stepping over the threshold to the salon brings a smile to Jeonghan’s face. Well, the mask on the lower half of his face prevents you from actually seeing his curved lips, but the happiness is there in his deep brown eyes.

“Hi,” he says, scanning your outfit with apparent approval. “Be _right_ with you.”

“Take your time,” you insist, focusing your smile on the customer sitting across from him. She smiles back politely and returns her attention to Jeonghan, who in turn goes back to focusing on her fingernails. He meticulously sweeps an emery board across the rounded ruby shapes to finish smoothing them out.

The last person in the small building gets up from his cozy perch in one of the pedicure chairs at the end of the row and crosses the floor. He was not here this morning when you dropped Jeonghan off, but you’re glad to see him here now. It worries you to have Jeonghan here alone in the evenings, and you reminded him of that for what must have been the dozenth time just last week when you discovered he had sent his other employees home early. Even just having one other person here with him - especially after dark - gives you a better peace of mind.

“You look so nice, ___. Is it date night?”

“Yep, we’re off to dinner,” you answer, accepting the young man’s hug. “What’s new, Josh?”

“Oh, not much.” Joshua steps back with a shrug and takes one of your hands unsolicited. He inspects your fingernails, which have unsightly matte polka dots chipped in the gloss. “Want me to re-do these before you go? It won’t take that long.”

You let out a fleeting giggle. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother doing them in the first place when I put so much wear and tear on them. This damage only took me a week.”

“Well that’s because-” Joshua shoots your boyfriend a quick look and you can tell he alters the next part of his statement. “-you did them at home. You need to have them _professionally_ done.” His way of criticizing Jeonghan’s work while leaving the customer in the room none the wiser is very clever, and you have half a mind to actually applaud him for poking fun at his friend without hurting their business.

Jeonghan glares over at you and Joshua, but he cannot seem to think of a subtle rebuttal, so he stews in silence.

“Ah, maybe _that’s_ my problem,” you reply, grinning.

“Give me, like, twenty minutes and you’ll be set,” Joshua encourages brightly.

As he’s making his offer, Jeonghan finishes with the woman. From the edge of your vision, you see him remove his mask and lead her to the register to finish the transaction.

“Are you working Saturday morning?” you ask Joshua. “I’ll stop in then and you can do my toes, too.”

Before he can confirm - or deny - the appointment with you, Jeonghan interrupts by coming up behind you and holding his tip in front of your face. “Here, look what my ‘unprofessional’ work got us. Buy yourself something nice, baby.”

You chuckle politely at his trite remark until you flick through and realize just how much worth is in the bills. “Wow, Han, she was generous!”

“She was appreciative of the amazing job I did,” he corrects with a peck to your cheek, then he takes his suit jacket from your arms to slip it on. “Sorry, Shua, we have to go. Ready, ___?”

“Ready,” you say.

“Sounds good,” Joshua replies at the same time. “I’ll lock up here. Enjoy your date, guys. See you Saturday, ___.”

* * *

The wine is more than decent, the food hits all the right spots, and the company is absolutely perfect.

Jeonghan laughs merrily from across the table. Strands of pale blonde hair trickle past his ears the further he tips his head back, and the sharp points of his cheeks are hued pink from where the rosé has gone. His smile loses none of its dazzle when the waiter interrupts to check on the two of you. The sheer warmth he radiates is boundless in the most endearing way.

When the waiter waltzes away again, you watch Jeonghan lean back in his chair. His eyes land on yours, and while some of the amusement fades from his face, the fondness remains. You see it there, twinkling in the inky pools of his irises; you feel it in the comfort he exudes while he is with you.

For some reason, the contentment of the moment draws something to mind. “Do you remember when we first met?” you ask out of the blue.

His eyes crinkle. “Of course I do. Remember how you tried to kiss me?”

“Oh my god, _yes_ ,” you groan. “Honestly, I still don’t remember a _whole_ lot about that night, but I definitely remember you saying, _‘Oh, no thanks,’_ right in my face. Asshole.”

“I wasn’t _trying_ to be an asshole!” he laughs in defense. “I was trying to be _polite_! You were a hot mess. That party had you twenty so’s-worth of shit-faced.”

“Twenty _what_?”

“You were so, so, so, so, so, so, _so_ , so, soooo…” he starts chanting his stupid joke.

You giggle and hang your head. “Okay, okay, I get it!”

“Hang on.” He holds a finger up. “So, so, SO-”

“Shut up, Jeonghan, I swear to god…”

“- _so_ shit-faced. I didn’t want you to embarrass yourself.”

“ _You_ embarrassed me by being an asshole!”

“Maybe, but not as much as we both would’ve been if we’d slept together that night. It would’ve been a disaster. I did us both a favor.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What makes you think I would’ve slept with you so soon?”

“Because you slept with my roommate that night instead.”

For that, you have no argument, so you toast your wine glass his direction and say, “Fair enough. It’s only funny now because _we’re_ the ones who ended up together.”

Jeonghan smiles. “Thank goodness for that. Life is pretty damn grand with you in it, darling.”

His words sober you a bit, and your smile turns almost shy. “I could say the same about you, doll.”

He probably does not always love you as much and as effortlessly as he does right now. He certainly is not always his best, most charming self the way he is right now. And neither are you. But if you could have moments like these scattered throughout the rest of your life, you feel it would be enough.

So it comes as a soft entreaty rather than a question; out of the blue again, but also a long time coming. “Marry me.”

This time Jeonghan raises an eyebrow; he seems more intrigued than surprised by your impromptu proposal. Then he half-purses, half-pouts his lips in a cheeky sort of expression, like he thinks you’re bluffing but is willing to play along anyway. That feeling of overconfidence you had that first drunken night when you leaned in to kiss him in a stranger’s kitchen comes back, as does the fear of the rejection you suffered immediately afterward. If he says _‘Oh, no thanks’_ again, you wonder if you’ll die of mortification right here in this restaurant, surrounded by different strangers, with different alcohol on your breath.

But you know he won’t, not even as a joke, because he knows you now. He knows you well, and he sees the sincerity in your face.

“I don’t have a ring,” you go on to admit, “but I’ll get down on one knee right here, right now. This dress won’t stop me.”

Wordlessly, Jeonghan lifts his napkin from his lap to lay it across his plate, then leans sideways to pull something from his pocket. He casually holds it up for your inspection, and once you realize what it is, you move to kneel in front of him as promised without even questioning the coincidence.

He stares down at you and pries open the tiny case to reveal the brilliance of the diamond’s sparkle. Your fingers are sure and steady when he slips the top-heavy band onto the appropriate one.

“I’d be happy to,” he answers your initial statement, poking back and forth at the engagement ring with the tip of this thumbnail as though to test the fit.

By now there are dozens of eyes on the quiet scene the two of you are making, but his are the only pair you see. His smile is still there, softer and smaller now, but still brimming with the adoration he has gained over the years. It widens when you rise up just enough to press your lips to it. His hand finds the back of your head the same second yours cups his. A round of coos and charmed applause from the crowd of strangers goes up around you, but it is all background noise to the sound of Jeonghan’s giddy laughter.

* * *

He is no longer laughing by the time you throw the front door shut and shove him up against it. The needy kisses between here and the car have taken most of his oxygen.

“Shit,” he hisses, watching you work his belt buckle. “You get a ring on your finger and you turn feral, is that how that works?”

You growl playfully but say nothing.

“You better slow down, tiger, or we won’t last five minutes.”

“Don’t care.”

“Aren’t you gonna show me what we waited so long for this for first?”

“Later. I thought you were dying of celibacy?” you sass.

Jeonghan clicks his tongue. The simple sound is quiet, but it shifts the air. Turns the tables. You stop trying to get into his pants to give his dark eyes your undivided attention.

“We have all the time in the world now, don’t we?” he murmurs, as though the semi in his jeans is not growing as impatient as you.

You swallow. “I just want you so badly it hurts."

His gaze sharpens at your tone. “Does it?” He reaches up to graze a thumb along your bottom lip. “Where does it hurt, baby? Here?”

The sound you let out is something between a hum and a whine. You feel so sex-starved, so desperate for any morsel of pleasure he can feed you, that you try to take his digit into your mouth, but he slips it away too fast, plucking your lip as he goes. He brushes across your left breast next. The sensation is dulled by your clothing, but your nipple stands to attention nonetheless.

“What about here?” he whispers.

“Yes…” The fingers that had been so keen on removing his belt cling idly to the leather.

“Aw.” Jeonghan pouts and bats his eyelashes at you, but his sympathy feels insincere. He’s amused by the state of you.

His thumb trails further, straight down your stomach, while the rest of his fingers are kept stiff and carefully away from your buzzing body. Eventually he reaches the crease in between your thighs and presses through the layers of your dress and your panties where he estimates your clit to be. He is a little north at first but quickly readjusts his position, and the soft moan you let out is a dead giveaway for when he has found what he’s looking for.

“And here?” He takes a step toward you and begins drawing tiny circles. “Tell me, angel, does it hurt _here_?”

“Yes, _yes, yes_...”

He kisses your cheek tenderly. Pitifully. “Shh, I know it does. It’s time for me to make it better.”

_The arbitrary time clock has stopped._

You cant your hips against his hand. “Jeonghan, _please_...”

“Come here.”

He trades places to cage _you_ up against the front door now. You reach for him, but he draws back out of reach to shrug out of his jacket first. After he carefully pushes the sleeves of his sweater up, he uses both hands to hike your dress up along your waist. There is no rush to his movements. In fact, it’s almost graceful the way he does it, as though the actions he is about to perform could be considered decent.

When you try to remove your underwear from his way, he nudges your hands aside. “Ah-ah-ah,” he tuts. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Tell me the safe word, angel.”

After all this time, he still has you say it out loud beforehand. Beneath your eager lust, you appreciate that basic act of care and commitment to playing the dominant role.

“Candle,” you answer.

He thanks you as though you’ve done him a favor and places a light kiss on the edge of your jaw. Then he hooks his thumb through the side of your panties to touch the hood of your bare clit directly. A jolt of electricity singes your nerves from his first flick. Your body noticeably quivers, and Jeonghan smirks at his quick, effortless effect on you.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he drawls.

You swallow again, drier this time. “Mm-hm.”

“Because we don’t play while you’re working anymore, do we?”

You shake your head. “Hm-mm.”

“And you’ve been working _so hard_ , haven’t you, baby?”

You hum again, louder this time. Or maybe you moan. Whatever the sound is, it becomes incessant over each passing second and each pass of his thumb. Every noise you make is met with a return sigh or hum from Jeonghan. Every jerk of your hips is matched by a tilt of his head or other shift in his posture.

Getting fingered like this, fully dressed, up against the front door of your home, spikes a carnal, filthy pleasure into your blood. It sears through your muscles, hotter and hotter until it beads between your skin and your clothes. You want to take them off, but you dare not stop Jeonghan for a second. You keen with lust and desperation.

“I know. I know, baby,” he purrs, soft and sweet as a kitten. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so good...” He nuzzles the space between your jawbone and your neck and inhales deeply.

You tilt your face away to give him better access, but he peels back and takes your chin in his other hand to steer you back toward him. A puff of hot breath hits your damp temple; it almost feels cool.

“Eyes on me. Good girl.” His gaze skims down your form. “You’re still shaking. All I’ve done is touch your clit and you’re that close already, huh?”

“Yes,” you admit. “Just keep going, please just keep going.”

Jeonghan smiles and takes the sweat from your temple with a pair of kisses. “How can I say no when you beg me so nicely like the perfect angel you are? Hold on to me. C’mon.”

You instinctively go to clutch his biceps but think of a better idea and hook your arms around his neck instead. Jeonghan allows you to pull him even closer and finally - _finally_ \- slips another finger into your panties. He pushes it into your opening with almost no resistance, and you gasp when his knuckles bottom out inside you. Just as quickly as the finger entered, a second one joins and curls. He keeps them buried for a moment, then drags them back out to smear the juices he collected around your swollen bud. The slipperier his work gets, the more he enjoys it.

“Your pussy is so perfect, baby,” he says. “Spread your legs. I want to feel just how wet it gets for me.”

You obediently open your legs wider, and he delves back in immediately, fast enough that his palm audibly claps against your slick lips, hard enough to send your head tipping backward to thump against the door. When his thumb drops back to your clit and slips under the hood this time, you know it won’t be long until you’re unraveled.

“ _Ohhh_ my god,” you groan. More sweat builds on your forehead, on your chest, under your arms, along the backs of your knees. You grow lightheaded from the static in your veins from being fucked open by Jeonghan’s lithe, diligent fingers.

“That’s it,” he pants, and you’re not sure when he became so breathless. “That’s it, baby. Let go. Come for me. Come for me. _Come_.”

Another dozen strokes and you do as you’re told with a pinched yelp. Jeonghan kisses your throat as he works you up your high and eases you back down, undulating his wrist and babbling encouragements into your sticky skin.

“That’s it, squeeze my fingers, just like that. Squeeze ‘em tight. _Tight_. There you go. That’s my good girl. So gorgeous when you come. So perfect. Hey.”

The hand not still knuckle-deep in your cunt cups your cheek and pulls you in. He swallows the whines and the airless, nonsensical words of thanks you huff between kisses.

Once your breathing has had time to settle, he gingerly slips his fingers from your sensitive, twitching walls. He doesn’t even look at them as he brings the glistening digits to his tongue. In fact, he closes his eyes altogether as he laps the tips and moans indulgently, as though he hasn’t tasted you in forever.

When he is done cleaning the mess you made on him, he looks you in the eye and says, “Now that we’ve rubbed out that easy one, I’m open to suggestions on what to do next.”

“Let me return the favor?” You inflect it as a question.

Jeonghan smirks. “It wasn’t a favor, baby, it was a privilege. But since you’re asking so nicely again… C’mere.” He tugs you by the hands and begins walking backward, slipping out of his shoes as he goes, and you follow his lead. You assume he is bringing you to the bedroom, but he stops when his feet hit the carpet in the living room and glances over his shoulder. It must be the chair he was looking for because he then moves toward it with a sense of purpose, leaving you a few paces behind.

“Strip,” he orders. His voice is even and his expression is calm as he sits and crosses an ankle over his opposite knee.

You move to obey without hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back to yank down the zipper on your dress. Jeonghan keeps his eyes fixed on your face as you peel the gown away from your shoulders. Gravity takes the fabric to your waist, and you shove it down the rest of the way to step out of it completely. Next, you snap one of your bra straps with an eyebrow cocked in question.

Jeonghan nods. “Mhm. Keep going ‘til you’re in nothing but that ring.”

You had nearly forgotten about it. You lift your hand to look at it again, but a sudden noise startles you. It sounds like more of a crack than a snap from the way it ricochets off the walls of your home, though you know a snap is exactly what it was by the pose of Jeonghan’s fingers in the air.

“Don't get distracted now,” he warns, dropping his hand back to his lap. “You’re being so good. Please, continue. Finish taking off your clothes, then come here.”

With his instructions, you unhook your bra and let it drop to the floor. His eyes dip to your naked chest, but his expression is more clinical than enticed. Next, you shove your thumbs into the band of your panties and stall there until you get the attention you want. It takes Jeonghan a few seconds to realize you’re not moving and look back at your face. When he meets your eyes, he mouths the word _‘off,’_ leaving his teeth planted in his bottom lip for an extended moment. Even when he is silent, you feel the authority radiating from him. You shiver when the air hits your clammy center.

Jeonghan uncrosses his legs, and you finally glean a proper peek at your effect on him. The erection in his pants looks painful, but his demeanor is still relaxed as he invites you to stand in front of him by casually tossing a throw pillow at his feet. Once your toes brush against it, he reaches for your hands again and sweeps his lips across your knuckles, quick and affectionately. Then his hands are on your waist, and near your ribs, and around the curves of your ass, and across your thighs. He soothes them up and down your skin, imprinting patches of heat everywhere he roams.

“There’s my gorgeous girl.” He leans forward and plants an open-mouthed kiss on your lower stomach, then peers up through his eyelashes at you and directs, “On your knees for me, gorgeous.”

Another look at his crotch and you do as you’re bid. When your knees touch down on the pillow, Jeonghan shifts to whip his belt out of its loops at last. By the time it clanks to the floor, you’re already helping him with the button and the zipper. He lets you tug his pants down to and away from his ankles. His socks go next, and he takes care of his sweater and undershirt himself. His underwear is last but gone in a flash and then there he sits, stripped bare with his abdominals twitching and his cock standing flushed and rigid just for you. He is so goddamn beautiful.

“Is _this_ what my angel wants?” He leans back and takes his rosy length in a loose fist. “Is this what she's been being so good and working so hard for?”

You swallow and pretend it’s his precum sliding down your throat. “Yes.”

“What’s that?” He strokes upward.

“Yes.”

“What do you say, angel?” He strokes downward. Back up again. Your eyes may as well be stringed puppets with the way they follow helplessly.

“I said yes,” you repeat again.

And _he_ patiently repeats: “No, what _do_ you say? Look at me.”

Once you meet his lust-glazed stare, you don’t have to rack your brain for the answer he’s looking for. “Please,” you start, “let me suck your cock. I want it so badly. You deserve to feel good after waiting so long.”

Jeonghan tucks his chin down, puckers his lips, and releases a ball of spit onto the head of his cock. Another soon follows, racing alongside the first and the trail of wetness that already leaked from the slit. You shuffle closer between his knees and take his shaft in your hand. He lets go of himself, but not before brushing his fingertips along the back of your hand. The gesture is deliberate, not coincidental, and you smile up at him. He smiles back, more with his eyes than his mouth. His mouth is used to give commands such as, “Get to work now,” before leaning back comfortably. Even with his pulsing erection at your mercy, he is a marvel of arrogance and beauty.

You give him a few strokes to spread the wetness around and simply enjoy the slick glide, then bend to take in his wet tip. He tastes delicious; good enough for you to moan on contact, good enough for you to want to fill your entire mouth with his warm heaviness. He’s tangy from his natural body and sweet from the wine lingering in his tastebuds. You sink down further, letting your tongue follow the path of a prominent vein.

“Open wide. That’s it,” he goads. His voice is steady but barely there. The relief of finally being touched where he wants it most runs a succinct shiver through his legs, but otherwise he remains controlled, even when you tighten your lips to hollow your cheeks. “There you go. What a _good_ girl you are.”

His praise leaves you hungry for more, so you slather your tongue down and around his balls to hear the way his sighs and quiet pants start to crack his composure. He shifts his hips to ensure you can reach every sensitive part of him, and his cock feels just a bit stiffer when you try to swallow it down your throat.

“ _Hah_ ,” he gasps. On the armrest of the chair, his fist clenches tight enough to pop a knuckle. He soon releases it, however, and moves his hand toward you. You half-expect him to hold you in place because you know how he enjoys being in your throat, but instead, he eases you off of him and uses his loose grip on the top of your head to roll it back in a slow, gentle circle along your neck and around your shoulders. A strand of spit - you don’t know if it’s yours or his - still bridges your lips to his swollen member. You reach out to break it with your tongue, curling it devilishly. Jeonghan watches with black, hooded eyes.

“Dirty girl.” He wipes away the dribble on your chin with his thumb. “Where do you want it?”

You don’t quite understand his question. “What?”

Once again, he takes your hands in his, this time to help you up off the floor and onto his lap where he can sling your arms back around his neck. The only conceivable reason for him to cut a blowjob so short is that he is already too close to coming undone. You won’t call him out on it, but you’re thrilled to know it’s true.

“I asked you where you want it. Where do you want me to fuck you?” His vulgar inquiry is warm honey on your tongue. “You want me to take you up against the wall? Fuck you good and hard so you can’t fucking walk in the morning? Hm?” His hum vibrates your lips with the sweetest melody. “Do you want me to take you in our bed, under the sheets, nice and slow, until you can’t remember your own name?” His lips are a soft, decadent treat you could sink your teeth into. “Or do you want me to take you in this chair, right here where I sat while you were across the room working for hours and hours instead of sitting on my dick?” His perfume is a laced drug that could leave you high in bliss for hours.

“ _Yes_ ,” you breathe into his mouth. You pull at his lips, molding and twisting them up with yours while you feel up every inch of his skin you can reach - his jaw, his back, his arms.

Jeonghan relinquishes a shred of his control with a groan as he ravishes your lips right back. His own hands crawl along your shoulder blades, your spine, your ass. Eventually, he clears his head well enough to say, “That’s not an answer, baby. You need to tell me right now where you want to fuck or I’m choosing for you.”

“Here. Now,” you rasp brokenly.

He hoists you up right away, perching your ass halfway onto one of his forearms and using his other hand to drag his round cockhead through your folds until he finds your entrance. The tip slips inside with a stretch but little resistance, as do the next couple inches and more until your lap and his are pressed flush against one another’s. You rock your hips slowly to welcome the intrusion and ensure he’s as deep and you’re as full as possible, and his breath hitches from the movement. He lowers his eyes in a straight path from your eyes to your nose to your chin. His lips part as though he is going to say something, but after a couple seconds, he leans forward to give you another searing kiss instead, bracing a hand against your spine to keep you from tipping backward from the sudden motion. Whatever he was going to say about how good it feels to be sunk in your wet heat again is conveyed through his tongue on yours and the way he clutches your bare skin.

Just when you think perhaps all his words have dried up, Jeonghan sucks his mouth off yours, lays a slap across your ass, and grunts, “Bounce for me, angel.”

You would love nothing more than to do just that, so you build up a steady pace as quick as you can. He is just thick enough to rub your walls and make them burn in the best way imaginable. The smacks that come from your pelvis and your thighs meeting his over and over are lewd and wet and _so fucking good_. So fucking good.

You shut your eyes and hang your head back. “Oh my fucking _god_ …”

Jeonghan keeps an arm hooked around your moving waist while he paws at you from the front. He splays his free hand across your throat, applying just enough pressure to get a feel for your erratic pulse, then slips down your collarbone, down your chest to squeeze your tit.

“That’s it, baby. This is what we’ve been missing, isn’t it?” He lifts your breast and leans forward to wrap his lips around the stiff nipple. The sensation makes you involuntarily clench around him, and he whimpers from the tightness. “ _Fuck_ , I’ve missed this.”

His admission spurs you to speed up. You try to roll your hips at the bottom of every drop, but your movements are getting sloppier the higher your pleasure climbs. It doesn’t seem to matter to Jeonghan, though. His ragged breathing is a telltale sign of how good it feels to have your soaked pussy dragging up and down his cock. He tries to find your staggered rhythm in order to buck upward in time with your drops and help drive himself into your sweetest spot, but although both of you are hyper-concentrated on reaching your peaks, the coordination is not quite there.

“Baby, you’re falling apart on my dick,” he muses with the little breath he has. “Jesus, you’re squeezing me so goddamn tight. You’ve already come once and now you’re about to soak my whole fucking lap with _more_ cum, aren’t you?”

“Han, I-I’m s-s- _so_ -” you trill mindlessly.

“So close, I know.” He gives the fleshiest part of your ass another solid slap, then digs his fingers in to help you rock back and forth against him. “Do it. Come again on my fucking cock, baby. You’ve earned it.”

You work to get all the friction the ridges of his raw cock can give you, but the edge you’re chasing is still on the horizon, just a bit too far out of reach. “Jeonghan, I can’t…”

“I’ll get you there,” he swears. “Let’s just-”

In no time, you’re on your back on the floor and Jeonghan is plunging his rock hard length back between your drenched folds. Your legs automatically anchor themselves around his hips to steady yourself against the jarring pace he sets. The aftermath of the rough carpet on your bare skin is a worry for a later. Right now, you whine at him to go faster, go harder, just _don’t fucking stop_ , whatever he does.

Jeonghan leans close and takes one of your knees to push it back toward your chest so he can fuck into you deeper. His breath is hot and shaky and somewhere in the vicinity of your earlobe as he grunts, “Fuck, you’ve gotta come _now_ , angel.”

He readjusts his weight and his grip on you, pushes deep just a few more times, and then you’re coming, crying out and clenching around him so tight it nearly hurts from how hard he is inside you. He keeps himself still and buried to the hilt as you ride out your high but starts snapping his hips again the moment you start to come down.

“God, _fuck_ , I’m right fucking there, baby,” he pants. Sweat drips from his brow onto your cheek. “Where do you want it?”

This time you understand him loud and clear. “In me, come in me,” you beg.

He whines something wordlessly lyrical in a high alto as his release fills you with a sticky warmth. He fucks it into you with rough, staggered thrusts, his pace slowing but not completely stopping. Your legs begin to ache as he continues gingerly pumping himself. You assume his spent cock must hurt from the rising sensitivity following his climax, but surprisingly, he finds _another_ high after a few more pumps. He buries his fingers in your skin deep enough that the bruises may last until your wedding day. The force with which he pulses a final spurt of cum towards your cervix is something you’re certain to remember for a long time as well.

“Holy shit,” Jeonghan sighs. The two of you moan together when he slips out of you, still half hard. “Come here, angel.”

He slumps to the side and gathers you in his arms to face him. You tuck your forehead between his jaw and his shoulder, and he traces his fingertips along your shoulder blades where the skin is a little irritated from its row with the carpet. You’re not worried about the sting, but your nerves wince under his touch anyway, and he apologizes immediately.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have-”

“You’re not an idiot,” you chuckle tiredly. “We’ve had worse rug burn before. Much worse.”

“I know, which means I know better than to have sex on the carpet.” He kisses your forehead and sweeps a thumb across your cheek. “I shouldn’t have gotten so caught up. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insist. “Being fucked into the carpet never felt so good.”

Jeonghan laughs quietly. “It was definitely worth the wait. I haven’t come twice in a row like that in a while.” His sigh is exhausted but pleased; his hug is weak but loving.

After a moment of recovery, he helps you stand and urges you to use the bathroom and change into something comfortable, and you agree on the condition he does the same. Before you dress, he peppers sweet kisses along your lightly scraped skin and helps you apply lotion over it. He also insists that you drink at least half a glass of water to rehydrate yourself before you both return to the living room so you can finally show him what the two of you have been celebrating in the first place. He massages the back of your neck soothingly as you walk side by side.

“Alright, now I’m _really_ proud of this, but you still need to be honest with me, okay?” you preface, and without waiting for him to respond, you whip the sheet covering the easel away with a flourish. The moment it’s revealed, Jeonghan’s eyes dart over the portrait in patternless directions. You want to see _inside_ that pretty head of his to know every thought going through his mind while he examines your depiction of him, but you can’t, so you keep your eyes trained on his pensive face and wait quietly for him to share whatever feedback he chooses.

“___,” he eventually begins. You can’t tell if the hush in his tone is because he is awed or appalled.

“Yes?” you prompt.

Jeonghan turns to look you in the eye. “How do you keep outdoing yourself?”

A note of laughter pops past your lips, and the nervousness in it surprises you. “Well, you know what they say about practice. Does that mean you like it?”

“Are you kid- I _love_ it! I don’t even know where to begin! The _detail_ , ___! It’s so-” He faces his two-dimensional self again and waves his hand through the air in front of the canvas in a gesture you have no idea how to interpret. Then he extends a single finger toward the bottom edge. “Like right here. The shadowing is so good. And the way you did the ‘lighting’ here...” He lifts his finger higher to point at his painted cheekbones. “And I don’t know if this is technically a critique towards the realism, but I don’t think my hair has _ever_ looked this good.”

You laugh louder, more happily. “I do think I did a pretty good job, but your real life self is _way_ better than this, doll. Trust me.” You tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, and he brings his face back around to look at you again.

“I don’t even know what else to say without sounding dumb about it,” he tells you. It is not often he sounds bashful around you, but he does now. “I’ll have to keep processing it. But in my unprofessional opinion, to my untrained, non-artistic eye, I’d say this is certifiably amazing work, ___.”

You touch his cheek. “As long as you don’t feel like leaving me over it, you don’t have to say anything else.”

Jeonghan takes your other hand and kisses the center of your palm, then each of your fingertips separately, then the ring between your knuckles.

Tomorrow, you’ll ask him for the story of how he happened to have it in his pocket tonight. Saturday, when Joshua sees it on your finger, you’ll ask his advice on how you should do your nails for the wedding (though you’ll probably end up having them done by your groom anyway). Next week, you’ll ask Jeonghan what time of year he has in mind for the ceremony, or if he even _wants_ to make a big pageantry of it. The week after that, you’ll either start looking into wedding venues or making an appointment with City Hall.

And years from now, when your children ask you about the portrait you painted of their father, you’ll tell them you did it because he was always your biggest supporter, and you’ll be reminded just how in love the two of you were tonight.

* * *

_Copyright © 2019 - 2020 ditzymax. All rights reserved._


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